Memory Logs

The Red Strings

When that boy saw him, his face went pale and his bloodshot, sleepless blue-green eyes widened in dread. Quentin stumbled back from the generator, and immediately Kate caught him, looping her arms around him protectively. Looking at them, Evan could tell that they were close - closer, even, than Meg and Quentin. That was when he saw it - a red string, connecting their hearts. He'd seen some of the other killers, like Philip and Sally, develop connections of their own, but he hadn't known so many had been popping up.

This was surprising indeed.

Evan tilted his head, examining the string between them as Jake continued to bravely work on the generator. Kate's eyes narrowed angrily on Evan. "Now shoo!" She hissed, still holding Quentin protectively. "You're never gonna hurt him again - you hear me, you ol' bully?? You'll have to get through me from now on!"

Quentin shook his head, clutching onto Kate. Though his eyes never left the killer, his words were directed at the beautiful blonde. "I-It's okay, Kate... Your life is worth more than mine."

"What utter horse-shit," she spat, tightening her arms around him. "Now you just quit all that. You're always sacrificin' yourself for others. It's about damn time someone did the same for you."

Evan's rumble disturbed them from their passionate argument. "No... no more," the killer said. "You're... safe."

Quentin, although he had surely heard of and witnessed all the craziness going on the past week, didn't seem convinced; though Kate's expression mollified, she didn't loosen her grip on the curly-haired teen. Meanwhile Jake had finished repairing the generator and was watching Evan closely.

"Meg was in the Chapel, last time I saw her," the woodland boy said. "Gonna avoid her like usual?"

Evan's expression hardened. "Not... avoiding," he growled.

"Yeah. Sure. And I'm Mexican." Jake rolled his eyes, moving over to the other two and ushering them away.

Evan stood there for what seemed like forever, staring at the bright lights of the finished generator and wondering how the hell things had gotten to this point. A soft voice finally broke him from his thoughts and he turned slowly around to see Meg watching him warily. "Hey."

His shoulders tensed and he immediately dropped his cleaver, staring hard at her. Memorizing every detail of her face yet wanting desperately to tear his eyes away. Silently he waited for her to say something - and eventually she did.

But what she asked filled his chest with ice. "Who were you?" Meg asked quietly, taking a curious step toward him. Then another. "I've become convinced that many of you killers were just... normal people, dragged from your lives to be thrown in here. Just like us. And I... I was curious... what did you do before you were taken, Evan? Who... who were you?"

Evan remained silent for a long time, so long in fact that Meg shifted uncomfortably and let out a sigh. "I get it," she muttered. "Still avoiding me. Although I don't know why."

"You won't..." he managed, jaw working for an answer behind his mask. "Like... the answer."

Her brows furrowed. "The answer to what? Why you're avoiding me, or who you were?"

He let out a frustrated grunt. Finally, he said, "Evan... MacMillan. Is my name."

"Evan MacMillan," she pondered aloud. "Must be why your realm is called the MacMillan Estate... from the looks of it, it used to be some sort of... mining operation? Is that right?" She questioned.

Evan grit his teeth. Digging up his past was painful - and bound to change her view of him. He wasn't ready for her look at him with pain and disgust again; he wasn't ready to lose the warmth of her tiny hands or the smiles she gave him.